Yet To Be Decided
by TwilightFanpire1020
Summary: Renesmee is a professional dancer for Rochester City Ballet and goes to extremes to keep herself in the business. When a substitute newspaper reporter, Jacob Black comes in the picture, can she finally get herself out of this mess she’s in? OOC AH AU CP


Chapter One:

RPOV

"Two minutes 'till curtain!" One of the tech guys called.

Butterflies in my stomach yet again. You'd think that after your first couple of shows, the stage fright would wear away and the adrenaline would wind down; but not for me. _Every_ show was like this. Of course, unlike the others in my league, I was here under very different situation.

To be a dancer in the Rochester City Ballet you have to be twenty-two, and I'm barely eighteen. Of course, no one knows this except me… and my instructor/manager of RCB; Nahuel.

After both my parents disappeared when I was six, I was living in multiple foster homes for eleven long years, and over the course of the time I had been asked on countless occasions why I hadn't gone to live with a relative. And the answer was simple; I didn't know them – they didn't know me.

My parents, James and Victoria, were both eighteen when they had me -living on their own- and I was an unknown event through-out my whole family. Leave it to them not to write a note or anything – to _anyone._ They never loved me anyways; I didn't even know what happened to them. But I was sure that they just couldn't handle me anymore. Having a child just wasted too much of their money, too much of their time.

So here I am now, twelve years later dancing my way into a future, under the worst circumstances.

"Curtain in thirty!"

"Let's go Renesmee, show me why I keep you around," Nahuel whispered to me as I walked to my spot out on the stage.

"Yes, Master."

I closed my eyes as I waited for the curtains to pull open and let a silent tear flow down my cheek.

_Yes, this is what it's come down to._

~*~*~*~

JPOV

I ran through the checklist in my head.

Laundry: Check

Food: Check

Cell: Check

Couch: Check

52" HD TV: Cheeeckkkkk.

This is what I did on a typical Tuesday night; sat at home and watched T.V. For hours on end. Actually... this is what I did just about every night. I have no life, I'm aware.

Right when American Idol was getting good, my phone started ringing.

Should've turned the fucking cell off. I looked at the caller I.D. Sam. Damn, haven't talked to that kid in a while.

"Hey Sam, what's up? Haven't talked to you in a good three weeks." I shouted into the phone, hoping to block out American Idol in the background while I searched for the mute button.

"Hey, nothing, listen I called to ask you a favor."

"When else do you ever call Sam?"

"Sorry man I know, but listen Emily just texted me saying she got some....clothes..... from Fredericks of Hollywood and that she'd be over in a little while."

"I don't see your dilemma." I said confused into the phone. Why was he complaining if his fiancé was coming over in lingerie? And second of all, why was he telling _me_ about it?

"I've got to go to that Ballet thing tonight in Rochester, and I have Emily coming over in lingerie. Do you see my problem Jake!?" He basically yelled at me.

"Oh. Well, what do you want me to do about it?" I asked.

"Well, I wanted you to come over here and keep her busy while I go and review that show," What? They were getting married though!?

"Jake? Jake! _Please_ don't tell me you thought I was serious," Paul asked in an exasperated voice.

"Uhhh…" Yeah, that's the bright remark I had.

"You know what, forget I said that. Can you just go to Rochester City Ballet and just watch the show? Write down a few things that were good and you're out, okay?" he pleeded.

Yeah, I was pissed that this was cutting into my American Idol watching, good thing I have TiVo.

"Sure man, no problem. I'll head there in fifteen minutes." Just then of course, my ass decided to sit on the mute button and the theme song to American Idol went blasting through my house...and into my cell phone.

"Ha, sorry I'm cuttin' into your Idol time man. Does Simon get you all tingly inside?" he joked in between his obnoxious laughter.

"Shut up, prick!" I growled into the phone. "You want me to go to that dumb ballet or not!?"

"Yes, yeah… Okay, sorry. Thanks again, bye."

I'm sure he rushed off the phone because of the laughter he was doing a poor job at holding back, but at least he made the effort.

An hour later I was sitting in the fourth row of the theater waiting for girls to go prancing on stage wearing tutus. Eh, I couldn't complain. It was _almost_ better than American Idol.

The lights dimmed and the audience grew quieter, I heard a stage man call out "Curtain in thirty!"

Within the half a minute, the theater grew silent and the red velvet curtains pulled open.

Swan Lake, a classic.

I watched a women flutter across stage only to reveal a girl in the center wearing a black tutu with her hair in a bun who I assumed was Odette, and then a man in a black leotard and black hair pulled back into a short pony-tail who I also assumed was Von Rothbart.

Not only did I have to watch Swan Lake in high school, but I must have seen at least five different variations of it because my mom is a ballet fanatic. She doesn't dance but she always wanted to, and whenever there was a show in town or on TV, she always dragged me into watching it.

Suddenly, "Odette" unfolded herself and there, standing- no _dancing_ no more than twenty feet away from me was possibly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my _life._

Bronze colored hair, a body structure so perfect she almost looked fake, legs that went on forever and big brown eyes. She wasn't that curvy, but she was… perfect. Undisturbed by surgery and altercations done her body. Natural. Perfect....Angel-like.

She moved with such grace, more so than any of the other dancers and she was undeniably focused on everything she did.

I must have been gawking at her for quite a while when intermission started and I heard the woman next to me quietly laugh.

"Someone's got an eye on a lovely dancer," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Uhm, yeah she's….she's… really….." I was at lost for words.

"Graceful? Picturesque? The most perfect thing you've ever seen?" she shot off.

"Uh…yeah… yes. Yes," I stammered.

The woman chuckled. She was older, maybe in her fiftees, wearing a purple hat with a peacock feather tucked in the side.

"I've never seen someone so concentrated before; she's one of a kind."

"I'll say," I agreed. "Do you know her name?"

The woman looked...confused for a moment and then squinted her eyes, thinking. "You know, dear, it always seems to escape me. It's… something different, not common by any means; unique," she concluded.

"Like her."

"Yes, exactly like her," the woman smiled.

While the intermission ran, pictures of the dancers were shown on a giant screen placed above the stage. Every dozen photos or so there was a picture of _her._ Odette. And every dozen photos or so, a smile would creep up onto my face.

Not long after that, intermission ended and the ballet picked up somewhere in the middle.

Once again, "Odette" flitted across stage and I _swear_ we made eye contact for one second. Big brown pools of forever. Leading right into her soul. I wonder…

Hey, I was a reporter, well, a reporter sub, so how come I couldn't go back stage for an interview with the lead, right? Plan in action.

As the ballet came to a close I immediately knew which ending the manager had chosen. The one they had also used in the New York City Ballet. Where, Odette remains a swan forever, and Siegfried is left to mourn over his lost lover. How I would kill to be the guy up there with her.

When the curtain closed, everyone stood and I made a quick exit to try and get back stage. Well, I tried to make a quick exit. Unfortunately with a countless number of people there, it took a little while.

Once out of the auditorium, I made my way to the back of the building and walked into the door that some of the dancers were already exiting from, I hoped, no _prayed_ she didn't leave yet. A big burly man stood a few feet in through the door and gave me a questioning look.

"And you are?" he asked in a tired tone.

"Um… Jake. Jacob Black, I'm doing a report for the newspaper and I need to interview… the um… lead." I stuttered.

Without question, he replied, "Right this way."

Big Burly Man brought me down a wide hallway into a dressing room that had her picture on the door.

"You have a visitor, ma'am," he informed her.

"Okay," she replied. Even her voice, an angel.

I walked into the tiny space to find her sitting on top of a stool still in her tutu, untying her ballet slippers from her long, toned legs.

"Hello," she greeted in her sing-song voice.

"Hi, I'm Jacob – Jake, same thing…both…uhm, I'm from the paper, review, I… you did amazing." I was never this nervous in front of girls. But with her, possibly the most gorgeous creature I've seen in my whole life, I was a big bumbling idiot.

"Jake, nice to meet you. I'm Renesmee." She stated while offering her hand.

Renesmee. Her name – the angels name was _Renesmee._ And mine was Jacob. I think. I looked into her deep brown eyes and saw everything I wanted to see in a girl. Everything that _should_ be seen in a girl. Peace, beauty, calm, devotion, relaxation. All of these emotions mixed in two shiny, brown orbs.

"Renesmee? That's a…unique name"

"Yeah," she sighed, "I get that a lot. It's… I think it was my mother's idea."

"It's pretty though, I mean, I've never heard anything like it before."

She blushed, and it was simply the most adorable thing ever, "Thank you. So, you have questions for me?"

"Oh yeah, right… Um, when did you start dancing for Rochester City Ballet?" Seemed like an easy question enough…. Or not….

Her brown eyes seemed to darken instantaneously, "About a year and a half," she spoke in a clipped tone.

"That's...nice. So you enjoy dancing? The feeling of adrenaline pulsing through your veins while up on the stage?"

She laughed but it was a sad laugh, "Dancing is…" her eyes looked up from her ballet slipper clad leg into my eyes, "dancing is my life," she finished in an out-of-breath sounding voice.

"Good life. It's beautiful, what you do."

"Yeah…" her words agreed, but her tone didn't.

I noticed she was still struggling with a knot where the two pieces of satiny material were tied together, "Here, let me help you," I offered her.

"Thank you," she said while moving her hand up into her lap.

I had just gotten my fingers to the knot up against her stocking covered legs when I could feel someone behind me.

"Renesmee," the voice started. I turned around to see "Von Rothbart" staring at me like I had just invaded his personal territory. Wait, _was_ Renesmee his? "Who is this?"

There was no reason for her to be interrogated, so I answered, "I'm Jacob Black, interviewing Renesmee here for an article. She did a wonderful job. "

"That's what you, a naïve little college boy would think. Obviously you know nothing about ballet, because you would have noticed that she messed up twice in her performance," he scolded.

I looked back to Renesmee who had her head lowered in shame. "I'm sorry Nahuel, it's just my ankle, I really…I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Yes, well no use crying over spilled milk. It's over and done with now. Like _you_ Jacob. Please if you would, leave now so I can chat with my lead," Nahuel ordered in a strong voice.

I looked to Renesmee who had a slight panicked expression lightly covering her whole face.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for taking up time." What else could I say? No? It wasn't my place to be anyways.

"Can't change the past," he stated and I headed out the door, down the long wide hallway and back into my car. Maybe I could wait for her out here; she shouldn't be that much longer. After all, she was the only one left besides for maybe two other dancers.


End file.
